AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Is it? I’m terrified.”
The women laugh, and one of them says, “I get it, I’ve got twins! But after a while you wonder why women with one kid make such a fuss.”
“I hope so,” I say with feeling.
“Saxon kept that quiet,” one of the guys says with amusement.
“I didn’t even realize he was dating anyone,” someone else says.
Conscious of Marion’s gaze on me, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and say, “Oh, actually, we’re not dating. Um…”
“Aw,” one of the women says.
“Right,” Marion says briskly, “back to work everyone. Come on, Catie. Let’s return you to the office.”
I pick up the books the guys gave me and carry them while Marion brings the remainder of the cake.
“Thank you so much for this,” I say to her as I sit back at my desk. “And for… you know… standing up for me.”
“People love to talk,” she says. “But it’s nobody else’s business what’s happening between you and Saxon.” She hesitates. “All I will say is that I’ve worked with him for over five years, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.” She smiles.
“Oh.” I blush again. Damn being a redhead. I blush so easily. “I guess he’s never been told he’s having twins before, either.”
She chuckles. “Probably not, but I don’t think it’s your bump that’s making his eyes light up.” She grins and walks away.
I don’t know what to think about that, so I put it out of my mind and get to work.
*
I don’t see much of him during the day. When he does come back to his office, he’s with Damon and Kip and a couple of other guys, and although he winks at me, he doesn’t stop to talk. Then before lunch he heads out with them, and he doesn’t reappear all afternoon. His calendar just says, “Brandish,” which I find interesting. I Google it and discover that Brandish is a Wellington-based firm specializing in upper-extremity prostheses. I click on the link, which takes me to a rather shit website that looks like a five-year-old has designed it. Half the links are broken.
I check the folder containing dictated files and discover that Saxon hasn’t added any since the large report, which I’ve nearly finished. So I complete that, do the filing sitting in the in-tray, replenish the water in his fridge, empty his rubbish bin, and tidy his desk.
It’s lunchtime now, but I don’t have anywhere to go, so I get out my sandwiches, open Google Chrome, press F12 to open the developer tools, open the book I picked up from the main office, and start work.
*
By five, I’m getting tired, and I’m conscious that Saxon said he’s going to pick me up at six, so I tidy my desk and head out. He’s still not back, so I’m not sure whether he’ll be too busy to see me tonight.
I walk back to my apartment, take a quick shower, then get dressed in a clean pair of leggings and yet another black tee. They’re starting to stretch over my bump, which I don’t think is a particularly attractive look, but there’s not a lot I can do about it.
I dry my hair and pin it up, then investigate my meager makeup bag. I try to save makeup for the very few special occasions I encounter, and tonight definitely counts as one of those. I put on a touch of mascara and a sweep of sparkly green eyeshadow that I love. I don’t have any lip gloss left, but I do have a small tub of Vaseline I bought when I had chapped lips last winter, and I add a little of that for a bit of shine.
Then I curl up on my bed and wait.
Before I know it, I’ve dozed off.
I’m awoken by the buzzing of my phone in my lap, announcing the arrival of a text. It’s from Saxon, and it says,Hellooooo?
Oh shit, it’s 6:05 p.m. I grab my purse and jacket, and hastily head out.
In the corridor, Reggie, the tall, skinny guy from number sixteen, has just left the stairwell, and he leers at me as I pass him. “Hello, love,” he says, his gaze scraping down me, “need a hand getting down the stairs?”
“I’m sure I can manage,” I mumble, running as quickly as I dare down the steps. The elevator has been broken for over a week. I hope it’s fixed before I get to full term. I can’t imagine how difficult it’s going to be getting a double stroller up the stairwell.
I exit the building and immediately see the Aston purring by the curbside. His window is down, and he watches me walk toward the car.
“Did you fall asleep?” he asks.
